The Break In
by Wirral Bagpuss
Summary: Dr Watson returns to Baker Street after a tiring day at his surgery. But his rest is interrupted by intruders at Baker Street ! Read on to discover what happens next ! Final chapter now added !
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I dont own Holmes, Watson, Mrs Hudson or indeed 221B Baker Street! But i am having alot of fun borrowing them for a while !!_**

**_Authours Note : This story was orginally submitted to the brilliant new LJ Community Watson's Woes, please do go and take a look, there are some excellent stories there for all to read !! .com/watsons_woes/_**

**The Break In**

Dr Watson sighed as he sought a more comfortable position on the couch. He had had an exhausting day at his practice after an outbreak of influenza had seen many patients seeking his help. Coming back to Baker Street he had been near collapse and gave Mrs Hudson a fright when he slipped and fell to one knee as he tried to climb the seventeen steps to the shared lounge. Watson finally made it to the lounge where he sank back on the couch and closed his eyes shutting out the pain that now steadily throbbed in his shoulder and leg. He smiled as he remembered the conversation he had earlier with Mrs Hudson who had been concerned about him despite her scolding of him.

"_Mr Holmes has been out all day and heaven knows what time he will be back, but Doctor if I may say so you will do yourself no good running yourself down like this" said Mrs Hudson as she watched Watson sit heavily onto the couch as she stoked the coal fire and put on a few more lumps of coal. _

"_I just need a few hours sleep Mrs Hudson, I'll be fine, thank you" replied Watson wearily. _

"_You are __**NOT**__ fine Doctor; you need food and plenty of rest. I will bring your supper up shortly; Mr Holmes would never forgive me if I neglected you when you are clearly exhausted!" _

_Watson smiled and chuckled replying mischievously_

"_Ever thought about a career in medicine Mrs Hudson, you would make a very good nurse"._

_Mrs Hudson looked at Watson poker faced responding_

"_I have enough trouble looking after the worst tenants in London!"_

Mrs Hudson did indeed bring up his supper and shortly afterwards announced that she was staying with a friend for the evening and would not be back until the morning. That had been several hours ago. Just as Watson felt the arms of morpheous begin to reclaim him again he was startled by a noise on the stairs. He lit a candle and looked at his pocket watch; it was nearly one hour after midnight.

Watson silently picked up the poker, knowing that whoever was coming up the stairs was not Holmes. Holmes would never creep up the stairs, and besides Watson would have been awoken by the bang of the front door being shut if Holmes had returned. Baker Street was witnessing a break in.

The thieves opened the lounge door and whispered amongst themselves. Watson turned up the gas surprising the thieves who stared in astonishment for a moment and then one of them whisked out a gun and fired.

Watson felt the burning pain of the bullet hit him as it entered his side, he let out a groan and collapsed, his legs giving way and the poker he had been holding dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter.

"Whatcha do that for Mikey? Now we'll get the rope for sure!"

Mikey looked at his partner in disgust and went over to the trembling form of Watson who was curled up in pain on the floor. He gripped Watson's hair and lifted his head up roughly and saw Watson grimace in pain.

"He ain't dead Jack, just bleeding, look"

Mikey kicked Watson in the stomach hard and Watson let out a cry as the fire within his body became an inferno. Watson however had no time to recover from the blow as he felt his hands being tied behind his back and his legs tightened securely as well. The pain in his side tormented him and Watson shut his eyes trying to block the pain. He tried to speak but to his distress he choked as a gag was placed in his mouth.

The thieves laughed mockingly as they saw Watson bound and gagged on the floor, shivering with pain and from blood loss as a small pool of blood began to trickle down from his side from where he had been shot. Confident that Watson was no longer a threat to them, Jack picked up the poker that had fallen to the floor and brought it crashing down on Watson.

The thieves looked round the room, helping themselves to items and packing away into their bag some china and a clock on the mantelpiece. They had been so immersed in their crime they failed to notice the figure standing in the doorway until it was too late.

"I suggest you stop what you are doing immediately and put the bag down-NOW"

The thieves turned round and for the first time saw a tall thin but commanding figure in the doorway. His face looked thunderous as he noticed the still form of Watson lying still on the floor.

"**Watson!**" shouted Holmes as he rushed towards his injured Boswell.

The thieves grabbed Holmes stopping him in his tracks. Holmes fury was suddenly unleashed as he saw that his closest friend was hurt and most probably in pain. There was a swirl of fisticuffs as Holmes fought the thieves, felling one in a knock out blow and chasing the other who had managed to run out of the lounge and onto the landing, Holmes caught him and delivered a crushing left hook. The thief staggered and fell back knocking his head on the banister of the stairs and fell to the floor. Holmes wasted no time on the thief and from his pocket produced a pair of derbies and snapped them on the wrist of the now unconcious thief. Holmes went back into the lounge and hurried to Watson's side.

The first sensation Watson felt as he opened his eyes was intense pain as he felt himself being lifted up and felt the gag being taken out of his mouth. Disorientated, confused and in pain, Watson tried to move away and cried out with the pain. Watson felt strong hands holding him tightly and a voice softly called out to him.

"It's aright t Watson, I have you, they will not hurt you again".

Watson fought past the swirling fog that pressed down on him and forced his eyes open to see the concerned face of his friend watching over him. Watson lifted his hand and weakly gripped Holmes wry arm.

"Holmes, I-" Watson was cut off by a sudden fit of coughing that only served to jar his injury further and he struggled to regain his breath.

Watson faintly heard the frantic cries of his friend calling out to him. Watson opened his eyes again to the blurry image of his friend who was shaking and looking considerably paler. Watson smiled weakly before sucming to the blackness that reclaimed him once more.

Holmes cried out as Watson lost consciousness in his arms. Gently gathering Watson up he lifted him and staggered down the stairs and out into the street. He saw a constable walking down the street who saw Holmes carrying Watson and hurried over to him. The constable took charge and blew his whistle for assistance. Two more policemen came and Holmes informed them of the break in and of the two thieves lying unconcuious inside the flat.

Confident that the constables would look after the flat, Holmes called a passing cab which stopped Holmes opened the door and gently placed Watson on the seat and sat next to him.

"Charing Cross Hospital Cabbie and hurry!" called out Holmes.

As the cab moved off and hurried down the busy streets, Holmes took off his long overcoat and gently placed it over the shivering form of his friend. He gripped Watson's cold hand and placed it in his.

"Hang on Watson, please, just for a little while more". Whispered Holmes.

Holmes buried his face in his hands, afraid of what the next few hours would bring for his badly hurt friend and Boswell. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to his friend and Boswell.

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_**OOOH! Will Watson be alright? All will be revealed in Chapter Two !! :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

Holmes paced up and down the hospital corridor as he waited for the surgeons to finish operating on Watson. When the cab had arrived at the hospital, Watson's breathing had become more and more laboured and causing a terrified Holmes to quickly gather Watson into his arms and rush into the hospital calling for help. Holmes was quickly relieved of his burden and Watson was put on a trolley and wheeled straight into the operating theatre, closely followed by Holmes who gripped Watson's hand and only let go when the surgeon told him he needed to operate on Watson.

Holmes sat down on the small wooden chair and stared at the floor, and clenched his jaw. He could not stand waiting not knowing if Watson would be alright or not. If Watson did not he would hang the thieves personally for their crime. The operating room door swung open and Holmes saw a heavily covered Watson being wheeled out. Holmes leapt up from his chair, shocked at how pale and drawn Watson looked. His eyes gazed upon the surgeon and they fixed on him, almost bulgingly for any signs that would indicate Watson would be alright.

"How is he Doctor?" asked Holmes ignoring the faltering unsteadiness in his voice.

The surgeon, a silver haired man with many wrinkles round his green eyes which spoke of many sleepless nights, looked at Holmes and smiled.

"He will be very weak for some time, that was a nasty bullet wound your friend got, it smashed a rib and penetrated part of his lung which was causing him internal bleeding in addition to the external bleeding and explains why he was having trouble breathing when you brought him in here. But we have taken care of that now".

Holmes closed his eyes in silent thanks as he took in the news.

"What about that head injury; he was hit over the head by a poker as well"

The surgeon saw the worry in Holmes's eyes and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"He will recover, but his head is going to hurt for a few days and he will be too weak to move very far. But please don't worry; your friend will heal with time".

Holmes felt the weight of dread lift from his shoulders and he thanked the surgeon, gripping his hand firmly.

"I would like to see him if I may" said Holmes firmly.

The surgeon nodded taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes wearily. He knew that this gentleman would move heaven and earth to see his friend.

"Certainly, just give us a few moments to make the patient comfortable and you can see him".

Holmes cringed at the clinical description used to describe Watson but he bit back a retort as he observed the surgeon to be tired, in some pain himself with the onset of arthritis in his hands. This Holmes knew signalled the end of the surgeon's career.

"Thank you Doctor" said Holmes softly as he picked up his now bloodstained coat and walked hurriedly towards the hospital ward and his Boswell.

When the fog began to clear from his mind, Watson heard a soft groan and wondered where it was coming from only to realise it was from himself. Confused Watson groggily tried to raise himself up and found himself being pushed back by strong but steady hands. Watson felt his head sink against the pillow and groaned again as the room spun round and he lifted a hand to his face and tried to rub the sleep and pain out of his eyes trying to remember what exactly had happened.

_There were burglars; one of them had a gun, why did I not see that, and then the pain. Wait there was a voice, so familiar, but yet shaking. HOLMES! Where was he? Is he alright? Had they hurt him? HOLMES! _

In his confusion Watson reached out with his arms calling out Holmes's name and became increasingly distressed. Strong hands caught his arms and held them down and a familiar voice called out.

"Watson, it's alright I'm here, it's me, Holmes. Look at me old chap, everything is fine, it's all over now. You are safe"

Watson opened his eyes once more and the aquiline features of Holmes came into view. Watson saw the concern in Holmes face and eyes and gripped Holmes's arms.

"Holmes!" said Watson simply and sank back on his pillow in relief as he saw his friend and smiled weakly.

Holmes sat down besides Watson and rested a hand on Watson's shoulder and spoke softly to Watson

"How are you feeling Watson?"

Watson started to speak but was interrupted by a splutter of coughing. Holmes got up and poured out a glass of water for his friend and helped Watson drink the cool refreshing liquid, gently lifting his head and supporting Watson as he did so.

"I'm alright Holmes; just the damned chloroform always makes me ill". Said Watson as he drank the water and leaned back heavily against Holmes. This small effort had exhausted him.

Holmes smiled as he carefully lowered Watson back against his pillow and gently pulled the blankets over Watson's now sleeping form. He sank back in his chair and watched the steady rise and fall of Watson's chest as he slipped further into a deeper sleep. _It had been close. Too close, but Watson will be alright._ He would ensure that the locks at Baker Street would be changed as soon as possible as his guilt over what had happened to Watson made it's presence known. Holmes took Watson's hand in his and rested his head on the edge of Watson's bed. He would watch over his Boswell for the remainder of the day. He was safe now. Holmes felt his own exhaustion take over him and as the early morning sunshine seeped through the hospital windows, it's fingers found two souls united by the bonds of friendship, hands still joined and sleeping in the still of the early morning. In this moment they had both found peace in a world of darkness and pain.

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**_Hmm another cliffhanger .... *Laughs evilly* Hope you are enjoying the story so far ! I hope to update this very soon quite possibly tomorrow !! :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Authour's Note: Many apologies for the delay. It's been a busy week in work and i was doing much needed overtime on Saturday !! Anyway i hope the wait has been worth it, for here is Chapter Three of the Break In !! Also posted on the excellent LJ community Watson's Woes. See my profile for the link. Do go and have a look, it has some fantastic stories there written by some damn good writers !! :)**_

**Chapter Three**

The stubble on Holmes's face told it's own story. Holmes had stayed with Watson for the next two days as Watson swam in and out of consciousness, until finally he was more recovered. Watson opened his eyes once more and smiled fondly at his tired friend who was sleeping in the chair besides him. He looked round the drab hospital room and rubbed his face with his hand washing out the exhaustion from his eyes. _At least the banging in my head has stopped _thought Watson as he brushed his hand through his hair and felt the large lump at the back of his head. Watson remembered the sight of the poker coming down on him and Watson shuddered realising he had been lucky not to have lost his life. He closed his eyes offering a silent prayer giving thanks.

Holmes awoke with a start having felt Watson's shudder, having still had one of Watson's hands in his. He smiled as he saw Watson awake but still looking very pale and weak.

"Watson how do you feel?" asked Holmes with some hesitation.

"I want to go home; I don't want to stay here any longer. Holmes please, take me back to Baker Street". Replied Watson who looked straight at Holmes, and weakly gripped Holmes's arm.

Holmes was surprised by this request from Watson. But he saw the look of distress in Watson's eyes and knew he could not refuse his brave Boswell this simple request_. _Holmes smiled and thought grimly_ Watson IS the Doctor and he probably knows more about his condition than I do, and he is the only Doctor I would trust with my life_. Holmes patted Watson's shoulder giving him some reassurance and got up from his chair and strode over to a nearby wardrobe. He found Watson's dressing gown and a heavy blanket. Bringing them over to Watson's bed, Holmes carefully helped Watson out of his bed and helped Watson into his dressing gown, and was shocked at how frail Watson was. Holmes questioned whether he was doing the right thing, but he knew Watson would be happier back in Baker Street than stare at the drab hospital room walls any longer. Holmes proceeded to gently put the blanket round Watson's shoulders and was alarmed to feel the whole of Watson's frame shaking. He needed to get Watson home as quickly as possible. Holmes carefully supported Watson as he rose from his bed and slowly walked to the door, but his legs began to give way and Holmes caught Watson who fell back into his thin frame.

"I'm sorry Holmes, just tired from being in bed all this time, I'll be alright". Said Watson who was trying to reassure a very much alarmed Holmes.

Holmes seriously doubted Watson and as they both got out into the corridor he sat Watson down into a nearby chair to allow him a few moments to catch his breath. Holmes looked round the corridor and laid his eyes on something that would just be the thing he needed to get Watson to the carriage without too much pain and exhaustion.

"Wait here Watson, I'll be back momentarily". Said Holmes to Watson who nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Holmes sprinted down the corridor and retrieved the item he had fixed his eyes on and wheeled it down back towards Watson. Holmes saw Watson desperately trying to hide a spasm of pain in his side; his healing rib was still giving him some pain. Holmes knelt down by Watson who was struggling to catch his breath and looked up when he saw Holmes next to him.

"Sorry Holmes, I jarred my rib back there, give me a minute".

Holmes smiled and gripped Watson's shoulder.

"Look Watson, your chariot awaits!" said Holmes cheerfully and pointed at the wheelchair.

Watson looked up and his jaw dropped, and then smiled at the resourcefulness of his friend. Holmes helped Watson into the wheelchair and tucked the blanket round Watson who was now leaning back in the chair, clearly exhausted. Holmes wasted no time in wheeling Watson down the corridor and eventually arrived at the main entrance upon which a cold blast of air assaulted them both. Watson coughed as the cold air hit him and his whole frame trembled.

"Cab!" Cried out Holmes who raised his long thin arm briefly glancing back at Watson and was alarmed to see Watson's head drooping onto his chest. _That is not a good sign_ thought Holmes in alarm.

The hansom carriage arrived, and Holmes carefully lifted Watson out of the wheelchair and gently laid him across one of the seats, and took the wheelchair back to the main entrance and then instructed the cabbie to take them back to Baker Street. He climbed into the cab and sat next to Watson, carefully lifting him up and allowing Watson to rest against his shoulder.

It was not long before the cab arrived outside 221B Baker Street and Holmes reluctantly awoke Watson as he needed Watson to be able to at least make it to the bottom of the seventeen steps to their shared lounge. Watson awoke groggily and then apologised in embarrassment as he realised he had fallen asleep since Holmes had helped him into his wheelchair. Slowly Watson climbed out of the carriage, supported by Holmes whose strong arm was around his waist and another supporting his arm draped over Holmes's shoulders. They were greeted at the doorway by Mrs Hudson who looked in alarm at the sight of Holmes and Watson staggering up the short walk to the front door.

"Alright Watson?" asked Holmes with concern as he heard the ragged breathing of Watson, the small effort of walking out of the carriage to the front door had exhausted Watson to his limits.

Watson let out a weak chuckle.

"I am home, that's all that matters". Watson suddenly staggered as the room began to spin round him. Holmes steadied him letting out a cry as he saw his friend stagger.

"Honestly Watson, discharging yourself out of hospital was not one of your better medical decisions!" Scolded Holmes as he once more took much of Watson's weight as they began to negotiate the seventeen steps to the first floor. Half way up Watson stumbled and let out a soft moan. Gentle hands lifted him up and Watson felt himself being lifted up into Holmes's arms and being carried the rest of the way up the stairs. He rested his weary head against Holmes's shoulder

"Thank you Holmes" murmured Watson tiredly.

Holmes kicked open his bedroom door and quickly walked over to his bed whereupon he gently laid Watson. Carefully taking off his dressing gown, he settled Watson into bed and gently pulled the covers up. He also added an extra pillow, allowing Watson to sit up a little. Taking off his own coat and slinging it on a nearby chair, Holmes poured some water from a jug into a glass and lifted Watson's head.

"Here Watson, I thought you might like something to drink".

Watson took the glass gratefully and drank the water thirstily. He sank back against the pillows and sighed weakly.

"Thank you for bringing me back Holmes, even the criminal décor is better than the hospital room".

Holmes sat down next to Watson and laid his hand on Watson's forehead, and did not like what he felt.

"I'll remind you of that when you are well again old chap, sleep now Watson, I'll give you some morphine for the pain".

Watson was too weak to resist Holmes as he injected the pain relieving substance into Watson's arm.

Holmes watched as Watson's eyes which were shining too brightly slowly closed and the lines of pain etched upon his face slowly melted away. He felt Watson's forehead again and was alarmed to feel it radiating heat.

Getting home had been one thing, but now Holmes knew he faced a much harder battle to come. It was going to be a long night for both of them.

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_**OOOH ! I AM cruel leaving you at the edge of the cliff like that !!! *laughs evily*. More comming soon!! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!. All reviews and comments are most welcome! :)**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_Author's Note : My mouse has been smoking and the end result is Chapter Four!!!! I hope you enjoy it !!! :)_**

**Chapter Four**

_Watson was running towards the eternal thundering sound of the Falls. He heard Holmes calling out his name as he fell backwards into the Abyss with arms stretched out reaching towards Watson, his eyes wide open full of fear_. Watson cried out Holmes's name and crumpled as he saw Holmes disappear into the swirling mists of the Falls. _He screamed Holmes's name and tears ran down his cheeks as he buried his face in his hands. Holmes was dead. And then he heard a mocking laugh. Watson looked up to see Moriarty stand tall over him with red glowing eyes, his hawk like feature resembling that of a vulture. Watson screamed as he felt Moriarty's hand grip his throat and began to squeeze the air out of him. Watson lashed out with his arms, choking_.

Strong arms held down Watson as he began thrashing out wildly with his arms, calling out for Holmes in a hauntingly desperate plea. A cool compress was placed on Watson's head and chest. Watson responded a half hearted groan and relaxed sinking back into the pillows behind him. Holmes looked down at his sick Boswell. He spoke softly to him and brushed back the damp hair that rebelliously drooped down into Watson's eyes.

"Watson it's alright, it's me Holmes, I am here, do not worry yourself. Just concentrate on getting well again old chap" whispered Holmes softly.

With a shaking hand Holmes rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes. He had spent the past few hours battling the fever that raged in Watson, applying cold compresses and whispering words of encouragement, telling his biographer and friend to fight, to stay with him. Holmes would not let Watson give up. He would see Watson through the night. Holmes felt his jaw tighten as he remembered how the two thieves had treated Watson only three days ago. He would see to it that they both receive long sentences by personally giving evidence in court. _No one hurts my Watson and gets away with it_ mused Holmes angrily. His thoughts were interrupted by Watson who was beginning to stir once more. He looked up at Watson and found Watson struggling, twisting and turning, Watson's head move from side to side, his face etched in pain, beads of sweat trickling down his temple and his eyes squeezed tightly as if to shut out the visions that were plaguing him. Watson's hands were gripping his blankets tightly jumbling them up into knots. Watson's suddenly opened, staring at Holmes unrecognising, unfocused and he called out for Holmes distressed and disorientated.

Holmes choked back the lump in his throat and blinked furiously as he fought back the tears. He leaned forward and gently held Watson's shoulders shaking him softly.

"Watson, look at me, it's Holmes, I'm here...focus Watson, focus." Commanded Holmes with a ring of authority in his voice that could not be ignored.

Holmes repeated this over and over determined to get Watson out of this delirious state. He was left in no doubt that the fever had been partly caused by the cold air and trip home to Baker Street. _Blast the man for his stubbornness, I should never have agreed to the plan in the first place. _Holmes angrily replaced the compress on Watson's head and pressed it down firmly, and looked into Watson's eyes for any signs of recognition, any spark that would signal hope that Watson would break this fever.

The next few hours witnessed Holmes battling to break Watson's fever. Watson cried out repeatedly calling out for Holmes, repeating his name over and over, in hauntingly painful pleas. Holmes replaced compress after compress, holding Watson down and keeping Watson secure in his blankets, which Watson continuously tried to push away from him. Holmes came close to breaking down on more than one occasion as he could do nothing to reassure his friend that he was alright. All he could do was keep applying the cold compresses and fight with Watson to see the fever through.

_Watson felt something pressing down on him in the darkness. Why can't I see anything? He reached out for something solid and stumbled in the dark. He cried out collapsing, the darkness threatening to devour him once more. And then he heard his name being called over and over again. Watson stumbled towards it. He knew this voice; he struggled to focus on it, trying to remember, trying to push back the darkness. The voice grew stronger and louder, his beacon through the darkness. And then he recognised the familiar voice. Holmes! It sounded tired. I'm coming Holmes, don't leave me I'm coming. Watson was walking and then sprinting towards the voice pushing back the darkness which began to lift, the black turned to several shades of grey until eventually the mist disappeared and he saw a familiar face bending over him, slowly coming into focus. He had found his beacon, he had reached his harbour. He was home. _

"Holmes" croaked Watson weakly.

It was all that Watson could manage at this point, but it served its purpose as Holmes face lighted up with joy.

"Watson, thank God, you are back, I thought I'd lost you". Holmes sat back in his chair his voice breaking as he did so.

Watson looked at Holmes with concern. _He really should get some sleep. _Watson lifted his hand and touched Holmes's hand that was still placed on Watson's bed. He squeezed it with as much strength as he could muster, and that was not much as it was.

"Holmes, get some sleep, I'm alright…" Watson stopped short as his rib jarred him and he caught his breath.

Holmes looked at Watson smiling with affection.

"Not until you are well Watson, enough talking you need to sleep now, you have been ill for much of the night and now you are exhausted".

Watson did indeed feel tired and he felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier. Holmes watched as Watson slowly drifted to sleep. He removed the last compress from Watson's forehead and gently placed his hand on Watson. _Good the fever has broken, thank God. _Holmes got up to leave, turning down the gas lamp, wanting Watson to rest. He would be alright now. A weak tired voice stopped him in mid stride as made for the door.

"Don't go….stay…don't want to be….on my own".

Holmes turned round and saw a pair of frightened hazel eyes stare out at him, pleading him not to leave. Holmes sat down back in the chair and placed Watson's hand in his.

"I won't leave you Watson, if you don't want me to. I will be right here". Holmes said quietly.

"Thank you Holmes" croaked Watson who closed his eyes once more.

It was not long before the steady rise and fall of Watson's chest indicated to Holmes that Watson had finally fallen asleep at last. Holmes never let go of Watson's hand. He would keep his promise not to leave Watson and sit next to him until he awoke once more. Holmes looked at Watson and let out a breath he did not realise he was holding, afraid to acknowledge the simplest of deductions.

His brave Boswell was afraid.

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_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! Watson is over his fever but how will he cope with the aftermath of the attempted robbery? And how will Holmes feel ? More comming soon, probably over the weekend when i am not working ! Hope you are enjoying the story so far. As always all reviews and comments welcomed ! :)**_


	5. Chapter 5

**_Author's Note: Sorry i have left this so long!! I have a few weeks off work recovering from a foot operation so hopefully i can really get back into this !!! Hope you enjoy the new chapter !! :)_**

**Chapter Five**

The early afternoon sunshine stretched its fingers into Holmes's bedroom and met two sleeping friends side by side lost in their own dreams. One was grimaced with pain etched across his face as he fitfully slept. The other was sleeping uncomfortably in his chair, his hand still clutching that of his friend. A metallic noise coming from the lounge awoke him immediately and like an owl stirring from sleep his eyes snapped open, alert and immediately surveying his surroundings. Holmes eyes fell upon his sleeping Boswell. He smiled grimly and gently placed his hand on his forehead. _Good the fever is completely vanquished._ Holmes let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding and carefully pulled up the blanket around Watson. He stood up and turned down the gas light and walked towards the door, taking one last look at the sleeping form before softly closing the door behind him.

"Oh Mr Holmes, there you are. I thought you could do with something to eat and I have made something for the good Doctor as well. How is he?" asked a very worried Mrs Hudson.

Holmes looked at his landlady. He did not want to eat anything, he couldn't. His mind and body was racked with guilt over the events of the last few days. He had caused enough pain and did not want to be the cause of any further pain. He looked at Mrs Hudson and the tray on the dining table and gave a fleeting smile that disappeared as soon as it had appeared.

"Thank you Mrs Hudson, that is most thoughtful of you. Dr Watson is sleeping at present so he won't be able to enjoy your delicious cooking but I am sure he will do so once he has awoken". Replied Holmes with an air of authority but with respect to his long suffering landlady.

"Mr Holmes, be sure to have something yourself, I will be back later to check that you have. If you need anything further I will be downstairs. Oh and Mr Holmes Inspector Lestrade called earlier, he said he would be back later, but he did leave you this note".

Holmes nodded in acknowledgement and took the note before waving away Mrs Hudson with a flourish from his hand. He noted the strained movement from his landlady and deduced that she was showing signs of early arthritis in her hands and feet. He would ask Watson to discuss this with Mrs Hudson when he was well again. Holmes jaw tightened as he remembered that just a few feet away Watson was lying in his bedroom in pain himself. Mrs Hudson gathered round her shawl and left the lounge and Holmes heard her make her way down the seventeen steps to the kitchen to prepare the evening meals.

Holmes walked over to the tray on the dining table and lifted up the lid covering the plates. Mrs Hudson had as usual shown her skills in cooking as the aroma of pheasant soup and the aroma assaulted his nostrils. He saw she had made Watson some as well. Holmes sat down and put his head in his hands in despair. He simply could not eat, it did not feel right to do so but he could not offend his kindly landlady. He picked up the bowl of soup and stood up, walking to the fireplace which was burning fiercely. Holmes tossed the contents of the soup bowl into the fire causing a flurry of sparks from the coal fire which hissed and spit as the soup settled into the burning coals. Holmes picked up a poker and angrily poked at the spitting coals. He watched the dancing flames. Even the fire was hissing and accusing him. Holmes walked back to the dinner tray and picked up the soup for Watson, carrying it into the bedroom and settled down next to his friend.

Watson was stirring slowly awake and Holmes smiled as hazel eyes met his.

"Hello Watson, I brought you something to eat, I thought you might be hungry, Mrs Hudson has made the most delicious pheasant soup" Holmes said with a cheerfulness that he did not feel.

Watson struggled to raise himself, weakened by the fever. Holmes slipped an arm around Watson's back and gently helped him sit up, grabbing another pillow with his free hand and placing it behind Watson giving him extra support.

"Thank you Holmes "croaked Watson weakly.

Watson looked at Holmes and was mortified to see how pale he was. The thin frame looked even gaunter and the stubble on his face and dark lined bags under his eyes told Watson that he was not sleeping well. He did not have to be a doctor to know that. _Oh Holmes, what can I do to ease your pain? _He was so lost in thought that he had not realised Holmes had been speaking to him and caught him in mid flow.

"–She is such a good cook, Watson you really must eat something if you are to recover quickly. I have two tickets for that Mozart concert next Saturday that I think you would enjoy… Watson?"

Watson looked up at Holmes and smiled as he scooped up a spoonful of the pheasant soup. He was not fooled by Holmes's bravado but allowed Holmes to do so for now if it helped him. He doubted it would do so for long.

"Mozart sounds fine Holmes" Watson replied.

Holmes watched as Watson ate his soup. Watson had shortly afterwards experienced spasms of pain in his side and reluctantly agreed for Holmes to administer some morphine to relieve the pain. As Holmes cleared away the dinner tray and watched Watson sleep, he wondered what the coming days would bring for them both. He would recover physically soon enough, but Holmes observed his friend and was concerned. It had been a terrifying ordeal for Watson, brave and staunch soldier that he was, he had still yet to confront the events of that night that seemed so long ago now but had yet inflicted so much pain on them both. He quietly left his bedroom and entered the lounge, placing the tray on the dining table and sat down in his favourite chair. He stared at the empty chair opposite. _I should have been home sooner, I could have saved him from all of this, instead I left him alone. And now he is in pain and injured. I should have taken him with me that night and not left him alone, even here in Baker Street. What was I thinking? _He buried his face in his hands shutting out the world.

Darkness had descended on Baker Street. Only time would tell if the light would return and take away the pain of the Doctor and Detective.

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_**I really hope you enjoyed that. More to come soon !! All reviews and comments welcomed !! :)**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Author's Note : Well it seems being on sick leave does wonders for my muse as i have written another chapter !!! HAHAHA !! Hope you enjoy it !_**

**Chapter Six**

_The sneering faces grew ever nearer. Grotesque and jeering. They were coming for him. He was in a room, familiar and yet not. The walls moved in closer like a vice that refused to open. Looking round frantically he reached for a poker ready to defend himself against these monsters. The metal poker melted in his hand like jelly and the mocking laughter reverberated round the closing walls. A cry of despair came from the hunted man as he felt pinned against the wall. Unable to run or hide. The figure loomed closer, their eyes bulging and spoke of terrors untold. He called out for help his voice growing ever louder and finally became hoarse. His hand brushed against something metal. His revolver. He gripped it with his hand and took aim and fired. The bullets hit their target but made no impact. The intruders still stood and moved close, the cruel laughter becoming louder. And then he thought he heard another voice, distant but familiar. It seemed to be calling his name. And yet so far. He reached our with his arms in the direction of the familiar voice as if it could grab his arms and pull him away from this abyss. No help was coming. He was alone with these monsters. Giving in to despair and hopelessness, his legs gave way as he collapsed onto the floor. Strong hands coiled round his neck and began to squeeze the life out of him. He gasped for breath, choking and felt the muscles painfully constrict tighter, as darkness claimed its victim he called out a name._

"_Holmes, help me"._

In the darkness of his lounge only with only the glowing orange red embers of the fire to feebly add light to the room, Holmes was awakened by the cries of his friend. Holmes bolted from his chair and entered his bedroom and was greeted by the sight of Watson moving fitfully in his sleep, the blankets wrapped into a tangle and his moaning growing ever louder. Holmes sat next to him and tried to shake him awake, taking charge of his arms flying wildly into the air, and called his name.

"Watson Watson, can you hear me old fellow? It is me Holmes. Wake up".

Holmes looked for signs of recognition in the disturbed doctor's face and found none. He tried again.

"**WATSON!**"

Still nothing and Watson's groans became screams as his whole body now shook deep in the throes of his nightmare. Holmes placed a hand on Watson's forehead trying to hold him down and was dismayed to find beads of cold sweat lying there. This was not the sweat of fever but cold fear. Holmes held onto Watson, tying his arms down as best as he could, Suddenly Watson let out a cry that would haunt Holmes for many nights to come, it was a cry of despair and desperation.

"**Holmes, help me**" cried Watson loudly into the night followed by a terrified scream that penetrated Holmes's heart.

Suddenly and without warning Watson's eyes flashed open, staring unfocused and in terror at Holmes before recognition once more filled the hazel eyes. Watson looked at Holmes for a few moments and then broke down completely, his head against Holmes chest. Holmes wrapped his arms round Watson protectively and cradled his Boswell calmly soothing him.

"Shhhh, it's alright John, it's all over now, you are safe. I won't let anyone harm you, not ever again, I swear". Said Holmes softly.

Eventually the shaking and sobbing stopped and Watson pulled away sinking back into his pillows. He covered is face with his hands not wanting to let Holmes see the embarrassment he now felt, a muffled apology came forth

"Sorry Holmes" said Watson meekly.

Holmes looked at his troubled Boswell. He had feared something like this would happen. It was inevitable really. _And my entire fault, I should have been with him _thought Holmes angrily to himself.

"Watson looked at me, it's alright, there is no need to apologise, I would be more worried if you showed no reaction to the burglary-".

Holmes stopped short. Frowning he realised he had spoken too much. But it was too late to take back his last few words now. At least they would both have to confront the issue. He looked at Watson with an amount of trepidation. He did not have to wait long.

Watson looked at Holmes, staring into dulled grey eyes. His rare use of his Christian name a few moments ago indicated the distress he was in. _He looks so tired and I doubt he has eaten much if anything. Oh Holmes, why do you do this to yourself?_ Watson smiled and placed a hand on Holmes's arm and gripped it reassuringly, wanting to give comfort to his friend and colleague.

"Holmes, when did you last eat? You must take care of yourself. You must not blame yourself over the burglary, there was nothing anyone could have done that. I'm glad you arrived when you did… you helped me Holmes and that is all that you could have done, I could not ask for anything more. I would have been lost without you. Please help me now and get yourself something to eat. It pains me to see you like this". Watson looked at his friend pleadingly and gripped Holmes's arms tightly.

Holmes returned a smile of gratitude as he returned the squeeze and placed his hand over Watson's. _My Watson, always thinking of other's before himself, and so forgiving_. Holmes shook his head in amusement, replying sarcastically

"Yes Doctor, I will do as you ask, but bear in mind YOU are the patient, not I. You have broken ribs and a concussion, it is you who needs to take care of yourself" and then Holmes spoke softly, amusement gone from his voice replaced with a grateful softness

"Thank you Watson, I would have never forgiven myself if you had been killed by those fiends. I too would be lost without my Boswell".

Watson smiled exhaustedly. It was not often that Holmes revealed a great heart as well as a great mind. But these words warmed him. And also lifting the darkness that had threatened to haunt him for the rest of the night. Exhaustion took over and as he sank into a sleep once more, he slept easily knowing that Holmes was nearby watching over him.

Holmes smiled as he watched Watson fall asleep once more and did not leave until he was sure the nightmares would not return. He returned to his lounge closing the door behind him, and sank back down in his chair exhausted. He had promised Watson he would eat something but he was too tired to do so now. He would fulfil his promise in the morning. Reluctantly Holmes allowed Morpheus to claim him and carry him into a new day.

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**_Well i hope you enjoyed that !! Poor Watson really is in a bad way is'nt he !! Will post a new chapter soon. Hopefully in the next day or so. As always all reviews and comments most welcome !! :) _**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Author's Note: Wey Hey I wrote a new chapter this morning. Well since i am housebound post op foot surgery, i dont have much else to do except indulge in some of my favourite hobbies like writing ! Hope you enjoy the new chapter !_**

**Chapter Seven**

It was early morning the following day when Watson awoke once more. He rubbed his bleary eyes and shunned the bright sunlight. For the first time since returning from hospital he realised that he had been sleeping in Holmes's bed. The criminal décor stared back at him almost mockingly so. Watson pulled back the heavy bed covers and swung his legs round and his feet hit the cold hard floor. Standing up slowly, he grasped onto a wall as the room spun before him and he struggled to regain his balance. Watson groaned clutching his aching head. Unsteadily he made his way to the door, opening it and entered the lounge. He smiled groggily as he saw Holmes sprawled uncomfortably on his chair and then felt a wave of guilt to see Holmes looking so tired. Slowly and falteringly he made his way to the couch and sat heavily onto it, closing his own eyes to shut out the pain of his throbbing head. He thought back to the events of last night and was grateful for Holmes's presence. He hoped he would never have a nightmare like that again. Watson heard Holmes stir from his sleep and opened his eyes to see Holmes begin to stretch his arms and legs in the graceful cat like way he was so used to seeing Holmes do time after time. He smiled and greeted his friend.

"Good Morning Holmes, I am glad to see you managed to sleep-"

Watson's greeting was cut short as to his horror he saw Holmes stumble and begin to faint falling face forward. He leapt up and caught him, and almost stumbled himself still weakened by his injury and fever, bearing his full weight. Watson more than dragged the limp form of Holmes back to the couch and lifted his legs onto the couch and untied the cravat and button from his shirt allowing the free flow of air. With a shaky hand he placed it on Holmes's forehead and was relieved to find he was not with fever as he had been. Watson let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding. He got up and went over to the dining table and poured out a glass of brandy and stumbled back to Holmes, ignoring the pounding headache. Holmes was slowly coming round and Watson lifted his head up and brought the brandy to his lips. Holmes almost choked on the fiery brandy as brandy passed his lips.

The misty grey veil that obscured Holmes's vision slowly lifted and Holmes looked at a very pale and worried Boswell who took away the glass placing it on the floor besides him

"I'm alright Watson, I just felt light-headed for a moment, I am fine now" responded Holmes to the unspoken question from Watson.

But he felt Watson's hand round his wrist and another on his forehead, Watson was slipping into his role as Doctor to mask his concern over his friend. Holmes placed a reassuring hand on Watson's shoulder and was surprised to feel the trembling vibrating through his frame. As if he had not got enough to deal with thought Holmes angrily as he berated himself for worrying his dear friend over his collapse. Holmes sat up on the couch and smiled.

"It's alright Watson, I no longer need your ministrations I am fine now". Holmes said firmly.

Watson walked over to his chair and sank back into it, but still casting a clinical eye over Holmes. _He seems alright but with Holmes you can never tell if he is wearing another of his disguises or if he is truly himself. _Watson groaned as another wave of pain assaulted his head and he leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes wishing the throbbing would stop.

"My dear Watson, it seems you are in need of attention yourself!" Holmes said observing Watson worriedly.

Before Watson could respond to that the lounge door opened and Mrs Hudson appeared with a breakfast tray in her hand. She smiled at the two seated men and placed the tray on a nearby table and began placing the plates of hot bacon, sausages, mushrooms and fried eggs on the table. A pot of hot tea shortly followed and then Mrs Hudson addressed both Holmes and Watson.

"Good morning Mr Holmes, and Dr Watson, it is good to see you up again. I have made you both a breakfast and I expect you both to eat it. A full English breakfast will do you both the world of good. And if after that you are still hungry I will make you some toast and marmalade. I have a freshly made loaf of bread which I made yesterday for you, it really is quite wholesome". Said Mrs Hudson

Mrs Hudson smiled at them both; the kindly wrinkles round her eyes however betrayed her concern over Holmes and Watson. She too had not slept well since the robbery and was glad that the locksmith was coming that morning to change the locks. She would make sure that Baker Street would once more serve as a sanctuary for the two champions of justice in their fight against the tide of crime that washed over London and beyond. Still smiling Mrs Hudson picked up the empty silver serving tray and left the lounge closing the door behind her.

Holmes and Watson looked at each other in stunned silence for a moment before it was Holmes who broke the silence.

"Mrs Hudson is becoming indispensable, come Watson let us not waste the breakfast" said Holmes heartily.

The two men made their way to the breakfast table and began to eat. Watson poured out the tea for both of them. Holmes looked at the note left by Lestrade the day before and frowned taking out his gold pocket watch and noticed the time, before placing it back in his waistcoat and addressed Watson.

"Watson, Inspector Lestrade needs us to formally identify the two fiends who broke in. We need to be there in the next hour. Do you feel up to it? I can wire a message saying that you are still feeling unwell".

Watson looked up from the morning edition of The Times and looked at Holmes.

"Yes I will be able to manage that Holmes; I want to see the faces of those men who broke into Baker Street a few nights ago".

Holmes smiled reassuringly before calling for Mrs Hudson

"**Mrs Hudson**!"

Holmes's call had been so unexpected that Watson jumped almost spilling his cup of tea that he had just raised from its saucer. With a hint of irritation Watson scowled at Holmes.

"Holmes must you really shout so loudly, it is only still eight o'clock in the morning and I am sure all of Baker Street will have heard you".

"Nonsense dear fellow, my voice is not that loud surely."

Before Watson could even answer that Holmes called out again.

"**Mrs HUDSON!!"**

Watson groaned and placed his head in his hand wishing Holmes would stop shouting and give his concussion a chance to heal.

The door opened and Mrs Hudson appeared, with a look of thunder on her face. Watson smiled sympathetically with apologetic eyes.

"Mr Holmes, really, I heard you first time, you need not shout quite so loudly. You may not be here during the day but _**I am**_ and _**I**_ have to deal with the complaints from the neighbours over your bellowing at this time of the morning!" said Mrs Hudson indignantly.

Holmes laughed waving off her concerns.

"Nonsense Mrs Hudson, they will always find something to complain about. Now Mrs Hudson I need you to fetch me a cab. Dr Watson and I have an appointment at Scotland Yard at half past nine this morning".

Mrs Hudson looked at Holmes and Watson with a hawk like look and nodded.

"Yes Mr Holmes, I will fetch that cab for you, but if you continue to shout like that, I would not be surprised if Inspector Lestrade had you put in cells for breach of the peace!"

And with that, Mrs Hudson gathered her shawl round her and turned to leave the room and banged the door angrily.

Watson tried in vein to hold back his laughter and finally laughed.

"You deserved that old chap, you really must not test her patience too much, she may raise the rent next!" Said Watson struggling to control his laughter.

Holmes glared at Watson and then seeing Watson looking happier and more himself for a while; he relented and joined in the laugher. The sound of the two friends laughing reverberated around 221B Baker Street and lifted the darkness that had descended on the place. They both finished breakfast and Holmes helped Watson into his overcoat, seeing he was still struggling with his injuries. As they both descended the steps and outside to the waiting carriage, the amusement was replaced once again by more sombre thoughts. As the carriage sped off towards Scotland Yard, Holmes watched his Boswell staring out of the window. He was concerned how he would react to seeing his attackers, still not fully recovered physically and emotionally. _Whatever happens, I will be at your side and be ready to catch you if you fall._

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_**TBC !!! OOOOOOOOOOH ! Naughty me leaving things at a cliff hanger! i will write more very soon. Hope you enjoyed it !! As always all reviews and comments welcomed ! :)**_


	8. Chapter 8

**_Author's Note : Here it is, the next installement of this story. Thank you to everyone who has left such wondeful reviews! They really have been of great encouragement !!! And now on with the story....._**

**Chapter Eight**

The cab stopped outside the front gates of Scotland Yard and Holmes leapt out to pay the coachman. He turned to see Watson struggling to get himself out and he offered a supporting arm which Watson gratefully accepted. Holmes saw how drawn Watson looked, pale and tired. He was still not fully recovered from his injuries. He held onto Watson protectively refusing to let him walk unaided, and to Holmes's concern, Watson offered no resistance. An indication of how weak Watson was really feeling. They were met by Inspector Lestrade whose small inky black eyes and small frame was familiar to them both. Holmes greeted Lestrade and put aside their differences for once, this was not a meeting about a case, this time it was more personal and they both knew it.

"Ahh Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, good to see you both, please come this way and follow me to the identification room" said Lestrade jovially.

Holmes and Watson followed Lestrade down the long dimly lit corridor and into a large room which had white washed walls and wooden flooring. A single red line was marked along the floor. Holmes and Watson waited patiently as Lestrade ordered a constable to bring the identification parade into the room. Watson had found a chair and sat down in it kneading his forehead wishing the concussion would go away. Holmes looked on with concern. _Had I been wrong to bring Watson here today? _Mused Holmes. Watson looked up to meet grey slate eyes staring at him. Watson smiled answering the unanswered question.

"I'm alright Holmes, just a bit of a headache; I do wish Lestrade would hurry up, what's taking him so long? "Said Watson shakily.

Holmes placed a hand on Watson's shoulder in a silent display of support for his injured friend. Before he could reply, a door creaked opened and a constable entered the room followed by a procession of several men who were guided by the constable to stand behind the red marker line and face the window. Holmes observed them as they came in one by one. The men were of scruffy appearance, one was tall, with shaggy dark brown hair, another had several days' worth of stubble on his face and his face was etched with wrinkles, no_ doubt weathered by years of being at sea, _thought Holmes silently. Holmes heard an audible gasp as two more men entered the room and stood behind the red line. He turned to see Watson standing somewhat unsteadily as he recognised the faces of his two attackers. Another constable and Lestrade were the final people to enter the room and the door closed behind them.

"Right you lot, stand to and face the witnesses present in this room. No talking, no jeering and no stepping over the red line. You will do exactly what I say, do I make myself clear? Yes, good! Then let us proceed!" Lestrade commanded.

He motioned for Watson to come forward and inspect the line of men. Holmes walked with Watson reluctant to let him make the identification alone. Slowly Watson looked at the faces of each of the men lined up and had to turn away when he smelt the foul stench coming from one of the men. Holmes shot a look at Lestrade accusingly, and for his part Lestrade shrugged his shoulders and looked back apologetically. Scotland Yard prison cells were generally of a good standard, but there was still room for improvement. Watson continued down the line and then stopped when he came face to face with the first of his two attackers. It was Mikey. Watson felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he looked straight into the eyes of the man who had kicked and shot him. He had seen allot of violence and death in Afghanistan, but what he saw in the eyes of his attacker was utter coldness and contempt. Mikey gave a chilling half smile, his thin lips never parted, his face as hard as stone. Watson shivered and turned to Lestrade, pointing at Mikey

"This is the man who broke into Baker Street Inspector, and so did he" said Watson who pointed out the other attacker.

Mikey started forward lunging for Watson, and grabbed his arm, and then landing a hard punch to Watson's left side. Watson clutched his side trying to step back but could not free himself of the thief's grip. Holmes rushed forward and struck out with his top heavy silver tipped walking stick. Mikey let out a howl of pain as the stick struck his arm hard and he fell to his knees clutching his arm in pain. Watson stood unable to move watching Mikey fall and he felt the room slowly begin to spin. He heard Holmes call out his name, but it seemed so far away. Watson put a hand to his head groaning before falling forward and the last thing he remembered before succumbing to the darkness was a pair of strong hands supporting him breaking his fall.

Holmes caught Watson as he watched him losing his balance, calling out his name. He caught his friend with both arms and held Watson, supporting his whole frame. He craned his neck round to face Lestrade and angrily ordered Lestrade to get the prisoners out of the room. Lestrade had already started to do so, and a constable took hold of Mikey, putting on the derbies. Mikey protested most vocally, shouting and Lestrade pulled Mikey towards him so that his face met his.

"You will regret doing that Mikey that man is a personal friend of mine and that attack is going to be added to your charge sheet. You see that other man there? The tall one? That is Sherlock Holmes, and you can be sure he will be in court personally to testify against you. The man you hit is also his friend and he does not take kindly to his friend being attacked like you did". Lestrade said angrily.

He pushed Mikey back into the line of prisoners being ushered out of the room, and turned back to see Holmes gently lifting Watson into his arms and carrying him over to the chair and sat him in it. Holmes proceeded to undo his collar and brought out a small silver flask from his pocket and unscrewed the cap and poured a few drops past Watson's lips. To Holmes's relief Watson came to a few moments later and spoke quietly to Watson, kneeling beside him.

"Watson, it's alright, it's all over now, they have gone, can you hear me old fellow?"

Watson opened his eyes and focused unsteadily at a white washed wall before turning to see Holmes slowly come into focus. Watson smiled and sought to reassure his worried friend and colleague.

"I'm alright Holmes, I just got caught out by that punch, I'm not getting any younger these days!" joked Watson.

Holmes did not need his deductive reasoning to know that Watson was far from alright. But he would concede to his stalwart, brave Boswell for now. Watson had his pride and he would not do anything to hurt Watson further. He stretched out his hand toward Watson smiling. Watson gratefully accepted it, gripping it and pulling himself upwards. With Holmes at Watson's side Lestrade met them and began to apologise profoundly. With a majestic wave of his hand Holmes stopped Lestrade in his tracks before his engine of apologies had got into full flow.

"It's alright Inspector, Watson and I have dealt in criminal circles long enough to know and expect this sort of thing to happen. Come let us give our statements for the trial. I will of course be there in person as will Watson. The small party walked out of the parade room and down the corridor to another more welcoming room of mahogany wooden panels. They were offered tea which Watson accepted and it was over an hour before the statements were complete. With all official business completed, Lestrade shook the hands of both Holmes and Watson, promising to wire them the official trial date when it set.

"You know it will be hanging outcome gentlemen" said Lestrade as he aired his professional opinion on the likely verdict of the trial as they walked to the entrance of Scotland Yard

Both Holmes and Watson nodded in agreement and they said their farewells at the gates of Scotland Yard and Holmes flagged a cab which pulled up at the Yard entrance. Lestrade waved and then turned back and entered the Scotland Yard buildings and to his mountain of paperwork. As the cab sped off, Watson sank back into his seat, clearly exhausted and he closed his eyes. Holmes watched him worriedly.

"Are you alright Watson?" asked Holmes simply.

Watson reopened into his eyes and looked at Holmes

"I'm alright Holmes. Just tired. I am glad that monster will be hanged. He does not deserve to live". Said Watson glacially who then stared out of the window staring at the passing streets that were whisking by.

Holmes looked at his friend in shock. He had never heard such words from the doctor before and he became concerned. Time would see Watson heal physically, but what damage had this affair done to his state of mind? As the cab disappeared into the sprawling streets of London, unresolved questions lingered in the air. Would time heal the pain of the champions of justice or would the darkness of bitterness consume them?

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**_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! Poor Watson !! He really is not having a good time is he? I promise to look after him in the next chapter !!! Hopefully i shall have the next chapter done in the next day or so. As always all reviews and comments welcomed!! :)_**


	9. Chapter 9

**_Authors Note: Hope i did not keep everyone waiting too long for this final chapter! Thank you for waiting !! _**

**Chapter Nine**

The morning sunshine brought light to the lounge at 221B Baker Street and the flames of a coal fire lazily danced in a haze of orange and yellow, twisting and weaving. The spitting coals were drowned out by the rustle of a newspaper as Dr Watson turned a page at the breakfast table. He was holding the paper in one hand and a cup of tea in another. Holmes observed Watson from his end of the breakfast table discreetly behind his own paper. It had been a month since they gave their statements and their evidence in person at the trial. His Boswell had lost some weight during those weeks and he had often heard the pacing late at night from Watson's room. Holmes was concerned. The physical injuries were healed now but he knew the memories of that fateful night would take longer to diminish.

Suddenly without warning there was a sound of crockery smashing violently and Holmes was barely in time to catch Watson as he began to keel over, the colour draining from his face. Holmes took Watson's weight and carried him over to the couch where he settled Watson back, pushing a cushion behind Watson to help him sit up more comfortably. He observed the lines of exhaustion under Watson's eyes and clenched his jaw in frustration. Standing up Holmes walked over to the breakfast table and picked up the newspaper Watson had been reading before his collapse. He saw the headline that had been the cause of Watson's distress.

**BAKER STREET BURGLARS GIVEN 5 YEARS **

In a snarl of rage Holmes screwed up the paper and hurled it into the fire. _They nearly killed Watson and some fool of a magistrate only gives them five years? What was he thinking? _A weak groan from behind him interrupted his thoughts and Holmes turned to see his tortured friend coming to and groggily trying to raise himself into a sitting position on the couch.

"Holmes?" Came the raspy question from Watson

"I'm here Watson" said Holmes who by now was sitting in his chair opposite Watson.

"Sorry Holmes, I did not mean to give you a fright, I'm just a bit tired"

Holmes darted up from his chair and over to the mantelpiece and looked at his collection of clay pipes and settled on the cherry wood and proceeded to fill it with tobacco from the Persian slipper before settling back down in his chair, lighting his pipe. He bit on his pipe, eyes closed and seemingly lost in thought before opening them to once more focus on Watson. He took out his pipe and held it in his left hand and replied to Watson.

"Watson, I am not a man who is as good with words as you are, nor am I a medical man. But I do know my Watson, and I know you are more than just a bit tired. The lines of exhaustion are obvious, but I can also observe that you have not shaved this morning, and a shirt button is unfastened. And you have spent the last two weeks pacing up and down your bedroom floor in the early hours of the morning, aggravating your leg which has been troubling in the last day or so. And I have seen the headline in the paper this morning". Finished Holmes who stared at Watson in a hawk like manner.

Watson buried his face in his hands, too ashamed of himself to even acknowledge the truth of Holmes's words. _Holmes is right, I need to get a grip of myself, I need to be strong for him, for the Agency, if we are to continue together_. Watson's frame trembled as his emotions overwhelmed him and the shock of recent events finally took its toll. To his surprise a strong hand gripped his shoulder and he looked up to see grey eyes staring at him, and a concerned detective trying to bring comfort in the only way he knew how. Watson shakily took in a breath and exhaled and briefly returned the squeeze by gently patting Holmes's arm and unsteadily got up, brushing away Holmes's offer of support and went over to a sideboard where a decanter of brandy and two glasses were. He poured out a glass for himself gulping it quickly in one go, the brandy burning the back of his throat, before pouring another for both himself and Holmes. Watson smiled. _Mrs Hudson will have a fit seeing us drink so early but this is purely for medicinal purposes._ He passed Holmes his glass before sitting down heavily on the couch again, but this time sitting up, watching Holmes drain his own glass. He decided to break the silence that was suffocating the air.

"I'm sorry Holmes. I should know better than to try and fool you. You are quite right my friend; I have been tired by lack of sleep. Holmes, those burglars only got five years! "

Watson broke off unable to complete the sentence as his voice almost broke down completely choking on the last few words. He stared into the fire and steadily tightened the grip on the brandy glass. His hand trembled and suddenly the glass shattered into a million pieces. Some of the glass embedded itself into Watson's hand and a small trickle of blood seeped from between his knuckles. Watson carried on staring into the fire oblivious to his surroundings. He gradually became aware of Holmes calling out to him, gently but heavy with concern. Watson looked up and saw Holmes and he smiled briefly trying to reassurance his concerned friend.

Holmes was distraught to see Watson in such pain and tried to offer him some assurance of his own.

"Watson, my dear fellow. Please don't distress yourself; it is alright to be frightened. Can you forgive me for the pain I have caused you? If I had not gone out on my own then all of this would never have happened".

Now it was Watson's turn to look up suddenly at Holmes and he was appalled by what he had heard. _Oh Holmes, there is nothing to forgive! _Thought Watson in horror.

"Holmes, you could not have prevented what was happening, you must not blame yourself. I'm just glad you were not hurt and that it is all over now" said Watson softly.

Holmes looked at his friend and thought silently I_ will never cease to be amazed by his forgiving nature and courage. _He looked into the hazel eyes that met his own and resolved from this moment on he would ensure that his Boswell would be safe.

"Watson, I promise you, this will not happen again, I will not leave you alone ever again. You have my word. I have been a poor friend indeed to have done so in the first place. But no more. Next time I have a case, will you come with me on my investigations?" asked Holmes.

Watson looked up and realised the significance of what Holmes was asking. It was more than just asking for his forgiveness, he was showing a rare glimpse of the great heart he always suspected Holmes of carrying behind his constant disguise of professionalism. He knew with Holmes at his side he would always feel safe.

"Of course Holmes, I would be delighted to accompany you; it would be an honour and privilege".

Holmes settled back into his chair and visibly relaxed, the tension now gone from his wiry frame. Watson got up and poked the fire with the poker, then walked over to the window and smiled, his hazel eyes suddenly twinkling mischievously.

"Holmes, it's a beautiful day outside, will you join me for a walk, we can go to St James's Park and feed the ducks". Watson said playfully.

He did not have long to wait for a reply as he heard a whoosh and something soft hit him squarely in the back. Watson turned round and looked down at the offending item in question, a cushion from the couch. He picked it up laughing,

"So Holmes, you promise to take me with you on your investigations but then hit me with a cushion?!! Some friend!! "

Holmes got up and made for the door, grabbing his coat.

"Come Watson we must not deprive the ducks of Mrs Hudson's freshly baked bread!"

Watson laughed and joined Holmes down the seventeen steps into the morning sunshine. Mrs Hudson watched the two men as they strolled down Baker Street, with Holmes arm supportively slipped into Watson's arm. The doctor would be alright now, they both would be. Two champions of justice working to make London safe. Theirs was not just a partnership, but also united in a bond of friendship. She smiled contently and remembered something she once read.

_A faithful friend is a strong defence and he that hath found such an one hath found a treasure. Ecclesiastics 6.14_

There may be other attempts in the future to break into 221B Baker Street, but no one would ever break into the friendship Holmes and Watson shared. Theirs would be a friendship that would remain unbroken till the end of time.

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**_And now the story is complete !! I hope you all enjoyed that, and hope that i ended the story on a happy note too! Watson needed cheering up !! And those ducks are going to be spoilt rotten too !! :) Thank you for reading, and as always reviews and comments are most welcome ! :) _**


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